


THE GREAT ESCAPE: The adventures of Dr. Rosenblum and Sir Hops-A-Lot

by Fangirl71



Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:54:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25210468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirl71/pseuds/Fangirl71
Summary: So this is what happens when you mention on Twitter that you're writing a fan fic and one of the creators of the show sees your post and offers up a suggestion! OK, Eric, you wanted it, you got it! ;)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	THE GREAT ESCAPE: The adventures of Dr. Rosenblum and Sir Hops-A-Lot

THE GREAT ESCAPE:  
The adventures of Dr. Rosenblum and Sir Hops-A-Lot

Dr. Rosenblum was always very uncomfortable around people. That’s why he enjoyed working the night shift. It was peaceful in the morgue. There were fewer employees milling about in the hospital. No one was ever scheduled to pick up a body, and rarely anyone ever came in to identify a loved one this late at night. Most importantly, no one thought it was strange that he locked himself in his private lab most nights. Being the Chief Coroner everyone just assumed that he was doing all of the paperwork that the day shift left unfinished. 

Most nights that was true. He would come in, swipe his hospital issued badge to get through the heavy double doors, inhale the familiar scent of cleanser and formaldehyde. Put his lunch in the refrigerator marked “Food only.” Even he, as strange as people thought he was, didn’t want to contaminate his peanut butter and jelly with whatever happened to be in the specimen refrigerator at the time. Turn on the light in his of lab and sit at his desk and begin to sort through the stack of papers that had been left to him by the dayshift. He reached over to tune in his radio to 660am on the dial and listen to the sweet sounds of whatever record Chet Sebastian was spinning while he waited for his favorite late night talk show hosts, Sammy Stevens and Ben Arnold, to start their show at 2:00. 

Tonight was no different. Dr. Rosenblum had just grabbed the first folder from the pile that he grabbed on his way into the lab when he heard a commotion coming from the other room. It sounded like someone bumped one of the autopsy tables sending the instruments crashing to the floor. That was odd. Dr. Smith, the swing shift supervisor, had left early, and Jim, the college intern serving as his latest assistant, wasn’t due in for another hour or so. He supposed he should get up and investigate.

There were only two doors to the autopsy room, the door from his lab where he had just come from, and the main door on the other side of the room. He looked around and didn’t see anyone in the room, but sure enough, one of the instrument trays was lying on the floor. 

“Hello?” Dr. Rosenblum’s low monotone voice echoed thorough the room, “Jim, is that you?”

No answer.

The doctor quickly cleaned up the mess, putting the now contaminated tools of his trade onto the counter near the lockers where the bodies waiting autopsy or transport were kept. He’d have Jim sterilize them when he came in this evening. 

He had just turned to go back to his desk when he heard another noise. Not a crash this time. Softer. More subtle. He almost thought he was imagining it. 

No! There it was again. He definitely heard it this time. It was faint, but it sounded like something was slapping the linoleum floor!

He turned in the direction of the sound, and that was when he saw it. It was just a flash, but it was unmistakable. There was a frog loose in the morgue. 

“Well hello there, little fella,” he said as he grabbed a large metal bowl from the counter behind him, then turned in the direction he had seen the frog. He heard a soft croaking sound, and slowly made his way across the room. “How did you get in here, hum?”

The doctor stalked his prey, silently, not wanting to frighten the frog. 

There he was, a dark muddled green and brown frog staring back at him from the floor next to a storage locker. He couldn’t help but think that somehow this frog looked very familiar. But that was impossible. He was just a garden-variety swamp frog like any other that could be found out by Lake Hatchenhaw. 

Dr. Rosenblum moved cautiously, he didn’t want to frighten the creature, then, at the last second, hurled himself with surprising speed at the frog, bowl stretched out in front of him, and landed on the floor with a thud, knocking a stack of petri dishes onto the floor in the process! “Got him!” the doctor said, feeling far more excited than his voice sounded.

Dr. Rosenblum lifted the edge of the bowl ever so slightly peaking underneath. Nothing? Then he heard it again. He turned his head, looking over his shoulder. There was the frog, looking back at him from a spot on the floor next to a tall filing cabinet. 

The doctor hoisted himself up off of the floor, and even more cautiously than before started toward the frog. When he was just a few feet away, he hurled himself at the frog again, this time slamming his body into the filing cabinet! The cabinet fell to the floor spilling some of it’s contents and scattering the stack of files that were sitting on top waiting to be put away.

When he heard the distinctive *beep* of the security door unlocking Rosenblum looked up to see Jim entering the lab. “Close the door!” He yelled, his dry, flat voice filling the room with an eerie echo. 

Jim closed the door just in time to stop the frog from escaping! He bent down and gently picked up the animal examining him for a second before realizing that he also recognized the creature. “Sir Hops-A-Lot! How did you escape from your cage again?”

“Sir Hops-A-Lot?” Rosenblum asked leaning on one of the exam tables. He hadn’t realize how out of breath he was until now.

“Yes, Doctor. Specimen 712804D. I noticed he escaped from his cage last week. I replaced it, but I guess the lock on the new one is broken. Don’t worry, sir, I’ll take care of it.” Jim said before turning his attention back to the frog, 

“Did you make this mess Sir Hops-A-Lot?” He asked, holding the frog up to show him the state of the room.

For the first time since time since the chase began Dr. Rosenblum looked around the room. Furniture was overturned, papers and lab equipment was scattered all over the floor. If his mother were around to see this mess she’d have asked if a tornado swept through the room. 

“Let’s get this little guy back where he belongs, “ Jim said to the doctor, “and I’ll get started cleaning up this mess.” 

The men went back into Dr. Rosenblum’s private office, passing cages of all sizes containing various different animals in various states of decay who were still capable of hissing, spitting, and growling at them as they passed by. Some of the animals were only recognizable by the labels on their cage doors: Specimen 740904M, pig; Specimen 521231V, dog; Specimen 620915C, cat; and so on. Jim always hated coming into the lab to feed the specimens, particularly the larger ones who had clearly been human at one point. 

They walked over to where the amphibious animals were kept and placed Sir Hops-A-Lot in a new cage before putting him back into his slot. Jim grabbed the nearby clipboard and made a note of the escape.

“It seems this specimen still hasn’t shown any signs of decay. Are we sure he’s dead?” He asked Dr. Rosenblum.

“I didn’t detect any heartbeat the last time I examined it. But if it is not showing any signs of decay by the end of the week we’ll release it back into the lake and see what happens,” the doctor answered, as he watched Jim put some freeze-dried flies on a small tray and sliding them into the cage with the frog. 

“Ouch!” Jim exclaimed as he pulled his hand back quickly. “He bit me! It’s a good thing that frog’s teeth are too small to break human skin.”

Dr. Rosenblum took Jim’s hand and inspected it for a moment. “Humm. Yes.” He agreed as he took note of the smallest red droplet making it’s way to the surface of Jim’s index finger. “Let’s go clean up that mess in the other room.” 

As they walked into the autopsy room, Dr. Rosenblum couldn’t help but think to himself as he plunged the syringe full of a sedative into Jim’s neck “We’re going to need another Jimmy.”


End file.
